


Stray Thoughts

by HowardR



Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Masochism, M/M, Mild Kink, My First Smut, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Opposites Attract, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Shameless Smut, Side Quests, Side Story, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: The kitchen sink approach to writing NitW fanfics.Selmers isn't normal, Lori is a little messed up (maybe. Probably), Germ likes the nickname, Chazakov really likes his worst student, Dohr is a little mad (in both meanings of the word), and everyone is just trying to get through the day.Oh, and Mae, Bea, Gregg and Angus are there too.
Relationships: Mae Borowski/Bea Santello, Mae Borowski/Lori Meyers, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	1. Selma, Prologue: Not Normal

**Author's Note:**

> All credit goes to Infinite Fall.
> 
> My main NitW fic is called 'A Lack of Proximity' and is a lot more coherent. Some of the content for this will explicitly be in that AU. Some won't.
> 
> Also some smut. Smut chapters will be titled - 'Smuterlude - _______' - just so you know what to avoid. Or not avoid.

I regret to inform you that I am not a normal person.

This is a fact that I have long come to terms with, but I feel that it must be mentioned in passing here, simply because these recounts will be painting an abstract portrait of me without once addressing who I am or how I operate; and thus, I find it pertinent to preface this journal, if I can call it that, with that fact.

I am not normal.

Nobody seems to know this, though.

The shrewd eyes of the crowd look at me and find me lacking, but not insane. The eyes of the parents are equally ignorant. The crowds do not part before me, showing me appropriate quantities of disgust, the people I talk to seem to know not that they interact with a being of lesser sanity, lesser standing, and frankly, I’m not sure why that is.

Perhaps I am normal - in that having some area in which you distinguish yourself from the norm is normal. In the same way that a person without anything that stands out about them, with all the personality of a potted fern, would be inordinary precisely because they stray not from the ordinary. Deviate not from the sane.

Perhaps everyone needs a face behind the mask that bears some hint of mistaken strokes.

Perhaps nobody is normal, and thus, that has become the norm.

How would I know?

My name is Selma Ann Forrester. I prefer to go by Selmers. And I am not normal.

I don’t have friends.

Mae is off at college.

I broke up with Dennis.

My drugs have been taken away.

And I’m not normal.

...I can’t believe I’m even writing in this little piece of junk.

Welp.

What rhymes with entrepreneur?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters will range widely in length and juiciness. I will usually put a summary in the beginning explaining where this takes place in the story and if it is in an AU.
> 
> Stick around, maybe.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -HowardR


	2. Prologue, Lori: Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Base game, day after the Proximity Scene.

I never was quite sure what made this spot so appealing to me.

Maybe it was the view. That seemed like the most obvious conclusion to draw. The horizon, spilling out over the town like an overflowing glass of some purplish-yellow liquid.

God, if the horizon were a drink, it would be poisonous as fuck.

Maybe it was because of how it made me feel like a god. Some higher being, looking down at the ant-like silhouettes of the humans below.

Maybe it was the opposite. Maybe looking down from here made me realize just how  _ small _ humans really were. How obviously meaningless one of them was.

Or maybe it was the sky above me finally being clear of obstructions, so I could look up and see it doming over me.

Maybe just because it was quiet.

But maybe, I thought, just maybe, it was because some places just  _ drew _ you. You would just look over at them and think,

_ That’s where I belong. _

Heh. Or maybe it had been destiny, forcing two strands in the tapestry of life together.

Maybe I was here simply so that I could meet Mae Borowski.

“Heya, Killer.” I shouted over the ledge, as Mae hopped to the building just below the roof.

“I told you,” She answered, hopping onto the roof and sitting down, “not to call me that.”

“I rather like it, actually.” I smiled a little. “I always wanted a playful nickname for someone.”

“Well, I don’t. Please refrain.”

I chuckled.

“Hey… uh… why did you do it?”

Mae stiffened so quickly and completely that I knew I had crossed a line.

“Or - erm - you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” I said quickly, chest already starting to feel heavy.

Mae’s shoulders relaxed and fell, and she smiled a soft smile at me. She wasn’t particularly good-looking, but that smile had always been pretty.

I didn’t swing that way, though.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I just… don’t know how to put it.” She said quietly, looking out over the horizon.

I wondered, idly, what had Mae coming back to this place, day after day.

Heh. Maybe it  _ was  _ destiny.

“Well - um - just think about it? We’ll, uh, come back to it.” I offered quickly.

God, I was such a pushover.

“Yeah. Sure, that’s alright.” Mae answered, voice rapidly regaining optimism. “What’s going on with you, dude?”

I smiled a little.

Nobody really asked me that.

Okay, sure, I had friends down at the tracks - but they were friends by necessity. Friends because, without someone to talk to, we would all go insane, and they were the least annoying people on hand. We hung out, but nobody had ever taken an interest in my life and interests like Mae.

Nobody else knew, or would care if they did, about how I wanted to be an effects artist, or my love of old horror movies, or really anything about me.

Nobody had asked.

Mae had, though.

“Not much. You?”

But I didn’t really have much to say. I wasn’t very interesting.

I wasn’t likeable.

I never really got what made Mae wanna hang out with me.

But whatever - don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

“Well, I went to this rockin’ party with Bea - dude, you should’ve seen it, they had strobe lights and smoke machines - and I  _ swear _ this one girl was flirting with me. She was a  _ bombshell, _ too, total cutie.”

Huh.

I made a mental note that Mae swung that way.

Not that it was important.

Just for future reference.

I leaned back a little as Mae went on, listening passively and following her wild hand movements as she went on.

I was smiling. It was something I noticed idly, as Mae went on - a tiny tick of a thing, so small that I hadn’t even noticed it tugging at the corners of my lips. But it was there, nonetheless.

I made no effort to squash it. It felt good on my face.

And the sky spilled out over us, as we talked for hours on end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I like Lori?
> 
> Because I really like Lori.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	3. Lori, Thought: Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Base game, day after Harfest.

"Y'know why I really like doing this so much?"

The sky spilled out over us, the barest hints of purple and orange winking at me from the corners of my vision. About a foot away, upside down, was Mae, staring up with me.

"I always just assumed that you liked seeing the squished results," Mae answered thoughtfully, tilting her head a little towards me. The sunlight caught the edge of one of her teeth, barely poking out through her lips, making it look like it was stained with some glowing yellowish liquid.

It was a nice effect. Might work well for something like a predator on an alien planet, different-coloured bloodstains all over his teeth and glinting so harshly in the sunlight that it left little patches of white light littering the ground.

I considered, briefly, what that blood might taste like. Not coppery, like actual blood, presumably. Maybe citrus-y? Like an odd combination of lime juice and milk?

And then I wanted to lick the light off Mae's teeth. Have it drip from my tongue, sour and thick - almost creamy.

I derailed that train of thought quickly. Too weird.

Dad had always told me what was too weird. On his worse days, he would get pissed off over it.

"Well, I do like that. But that's mostly just an excuse."

"Why then?" Mae finally asked, tongue creeping out and licking her lips. They must've gotten chapped from the sun.

Oddly enough, the idea of licking the sunlight off her teeth resurfaced. With it now, though, was licking the sunlight off her lips, and her _tongue,_ having it curl slightly under my ministrations and for Mae to moan under me.

Huh. Weird. Telling the thoughts to go away usually worked completely the first time.

I shooed the thoughts away once more, and focused on the sky.

"I like looking up at the setting sky." I admitted, taking my hands out of my pockets and flopping them unceremoniously onto the ground below.

_With you,_ was the right end to that sentence.

I didn't say it.

"Hearing the trains rattle by sometimes, trees just out of sight... I like that."

Mae smiled. I just barely saw it, in the corners of my eye.

It was a pretty smile, I thought briefly, as always.

"I like the sound of the trains," Mae counter-proposed, flopping her arms out as well. The thought flashed by in my mind, quick as a fox, that our hands were the smallest inch from touching.

I moved my hand away slightly, to a much safer distance from Mae's.

That's better.

"Rattling to somewhere else, from somewhere else." Mae finished. "I... I used to hear them in my bed at night, in the middle of winter. Have I told you that before?"

"I think so, but keep going anyway." I answered quickly. No, no need for her to stop now.

Her voice was nice. Bright, cheery - like the light on her teeth.

"Back when I lived here, before, I... I would hear the trains in my bed. They always sounded so far away - any number of miles away, in any possible direction. And I used to think that... that someday, I would ride on of those trains. That I would feel the wheels clattering under me, like they had clattered so far from me. And that, once I did that, my life would be complete."

Mae chuckled suddenly. It was a dark sound.

"And look at me now. Six years older, and I already have a million more problems."

She stared listlessly into the sky.

I followed a sudden impulse, strong with something I had never quite felt before. I reached up and grabbed her hand, turning towards her.

She blinked in surprise, but turned to look at me in return.

"Well, I think, that as long as we can come here and listen to the trains rattle by, our lives will never be too full of problems."

I idly noted that the pads of Mae's paws were silken-smooth.

Mae smiled at me. Something in my stomach lurched painfully.

It had always been a pretty smile.

"Hell yeah." Mae said shortly, grinning widely. "And I bet'cha we'll come here the rest of our lives, Lori. In twenty years, I'll still drop by the rooftops, and we'll still skate over to these tracks and crush things on the rails, eh?"

I smiled back. I couldn't help it.

My smile was ugly. I didn't even have to see it this time to know that.

It always was.

"I'd like that a lot, Mae."

And Mae was smiling back. Even though my smile was ugly, and I was weird, and my fur was probably scratchy and uncomfortable in her hand.

My smile wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried to ward it off. Mae's thumb stroked along the back of my hand, where the claws met the fur, and I shivered slightly.

I hoped to any God that might be listening that Mae didn't notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God I'm sorry and I didn't mean for this to happen but suddenly Lori is weird and Mae is sad and it's romantic somehow.
> 
> I never intended this. I really didn't. I tried to make sure it never happened in the last chapter. But it slipped through the cracks and now it's too prevalent for me to stop it.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	4. Bryer, Prologue: Celebrating

"Anselm Borowski."

Bryer laughed slightly through his nose, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

"'Anselm', eh? At least it's original."

He twirled the toothpick through his fingers, flipping it between gaps so incredibly smoothly that anyone watching would be impressed. Of course, he had practiced the movement for years - playing with a toothpick constantly was a good way to get his mind off worse things. And it was surprisingly rewarding.

After all, who would ever spend their time learning to twirl a toothpick but him?

He slipped his hands into his army jacket pockets, thought he kept toying with the toothpick as he did. Twisting, turning, spinning. All the stops.

Automatic.

Heh. He was a machine.

He slipped through the door of his favorite bar, collapsing into his stool and tapping his his thumb rhythmically on the counter as he twirled his toothpick.

The bartender paused.

Turned.

"Bryer, you son of a bitch, you weren't supposed to be comin' back for another week!" He shouted, grin wide. Some of the patrons kept on drinking away, but a good handful turned and swarmed him.

He chuckled, smiling softly, as he was jostled and pushed between a crowd of five or six guys, all shouting about how he was a 'low-life gutter slut for not warnin' them'.

"Whiskey, please." He said simply, not reacting to the crowd. They became rowdier as a response.

The bartender (who's name, as it happened, was Jack - he'd heard the joke a million times, of course) grinned a reluctantly impressed grin.

"Bryer, you are gonna be the death of me one'a these days." He said with a shake of his head, setting a shot glass before him with a dull _clunk._ "What's with the sudden desire for the hard stuff?"

"I'm celebrating, of course." He answered, voice quiet and mellow as always but with the tinge of a suggested _you dumbass._

"Celebratin' what? This damn hick town?" One of the patrons around him crowed. Someone shouted their agreement.

"Nope." Bryer answered.

There was an expectant pause. Bryer's expression didn't twitch.

"You aren't gonna 'laborate, are ya?" Jack finally asked, eyebrow raised as he poured Bryer his usual two fingers from a bottle of his best.

Bryer smiled softly as an affirmative. The crowd boo-ed.

Someone cat-called.

Bryer downed the whiskey with a single slug of his shoulder, throwing it back with acuity and sighing with relief.

He fished around in his pocket, but Jack held up a hand to stop him.

"On the house, Bry." He said, smiling at Bryer. "Good to have ya' back."

"In that case, I'll have a cask full." Bryer answered.

There were oohs. Jack rolled his eyes.

"It's _always_ the quiet ones." He mumbled under his breath, as he stepped around to wash the bar with a dirty rag.

Bryer grinned after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Wonder who that could be.
> 
> And look - I managed to write a chapter without Lori in it!
> 
> ...Don't get used to it.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	5. Mae, Unsure: Last Leaf off the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Base Game, After Mae leaves the apartment post finding the cult.
> 
> Mae's friends don't wake up and go after her.

Moon.

Moon.

Moon. Twilight.

My head is splitting.

Everything is in shambles. There's a sound like static.

Everything... hurts.

_Hurts._

I'm bleeding.

The blood is the moonlight spilling on the ground. It shines white in the twilight background, and everything feels like layers.

Bleeding.

Moon.

It's yellow. Yellow, tonight.

Bleeding moon.

Breathing blood.

Everything hurts.

I stumble forward. My feet are lead-like. They hurt.

Everything _hurts._

_Hurts._

I grip at the arm I fell on, just a little while ago.

What feels like a little while.

Or a month.

Or an eternity.

Or just a moment.

My arm hurts.

The night is warm, but the wind is cold. Howling.

Everything hurts.

Howling. Howling winds.

The trees shake, leafless.

They're that shade of green so black it's blue.

Everything is colours.

Dead.

** _Hurts._ **

My head splits open. The sound of static is pulsing, now. It's angry.

_He's_ angry.

Close.

I'm close.

There's a figure.

I stop.

He stares across.

The sound of static.

"Mae Borowski."

_That... that's my name, right?_

I want to cradle my head.

But moving hurts.

Everything hurts.

"You're here."

Distantly, I agree. I'm not sure if it's aloud.

The sound of static.

No... no, not quite. It isn't static. It isn't sound.

It's like... like a cloud. A cloud that's passed over me - _through_ me - and makes everything buzz like dying lights.

It isn't really a sound. It isn't really static.

But... but it's close.

Static.

Heh. How apt.

Static. What comes on when there's nothing there.

I... I do something, I think. Maybe I say something.

Maybe it's coherent. Maybe not.

Maybe I just stumble forward, or breath heavily.

Maybe I just... circulate my blood. Maybe I'm just aware of doing that which I was never aware of before.

It hurts to do.

Everything hurts.

"You can hear him too, can't you?"

The silhouette is talking to me, I think. Distant. Irrelevant.

Huh.

_Mae. Yeah, my name is Mae._

_Borowski._

"He ain't happy. He's... hungry."

"Why does it get louder, here?"

That's my voice, a distant part of me says. It's a question I'm asking. Something important.

...Important.

What does that even mean anymore.

"Heh. You haven't figured it out?"

"It... no. No, _he._ _"_

It's my voice again. This time, I can hear it, through the noise that isn't static.

_My name is ~~Mae~~_

_~~Mae~~ _

_~~Mae~~ _

_M... Margaret._

_Yeah. Yeah, Margaret._

_No... no, that's too long._

~~_Mae_ ~~

~~_Mae_ ~~

~~_Mae_ ~~

**"MAE!"**

...Yeah. Yeah, that's it.

_Mae._

...Did I say that?

Did...

Did _he._

I'm... I'm not sure.

"...That's right, girl. _He._ Not it."

The shadow is talking.

Does it really matter?

"He's hungry. You know that, don'tcha?"

I... I think I nod.

"You... you can help us, y'know. You can feed him. You can... can join us."

I...

I can't, though.

I _can't._

_I ~~can't~~_

_~~can't~~ _

_~~can't~~ _

_CAN'T!_

"No."

My voice. It's mine. It's really, really mine.

I know that. Because it said the words that came out of my mouth.

It carries more then I expect.

"No. I'll never join you."

"...I saved you, y'know."

I stare at the shadow. It's talking again.

...Am I listening?

...Maybe.

Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.

"Eide wanted to kill you. But I kept you safe. Kept him away. Told him to lay off."

"Because I _knew._ I knew you were... were like _us."_

The shadow keeps talking. I keep listening.

I think what it's saying is important.

I think I'm surprised.

"Mae... join us. Come with me. Your friends will be safe. You can save this town."

"No."

It's a fact. It won't change.

That's... that's what a fact is. It's something that won't ever change, no matter what anyone thinks. No matter who you are, or what your perspective is.

That's something I know.

...Used to know?

Will know?

Static.

"They'll forget you, y'know."

The shadow keeps talking. I don't want to listen.

I don't care.

I'm listening.

"Your friends. They'll move on. Gregg and Angus are moving, in just a few short months. You have any idea how much shorter months are when something you're dreading is at the end of them?"

The trees shake. The wind howls.

Leafless.

"They'll forget you. And then... then this town'll be just shapes."

The shadow just said something. Something important.

I listen to it.

The night is heavy.

"You'll disconnect, just like at college. And anyone else... anyone else that cared will forget you, too. Will ditch you. Your mother was right - relationships must be maintained."

"But you won't maintain shapes, will you, Mae?"

Silence.

"Beatrice already hates you. Gregg is going to move. Angus will move with him."

"And all of them will forget you."

"...But you can save this town. And the people in it. And you know... _he_ does favors."

"You only need ask."

Moon.

Twilight.

Blood.

"Join us, Mae."

"No."

Fact. Fact doesn't change.

No matter what.

"You killed Casey."

Fact.

"No."

"...You'll die, y'know. Eide will kill you."

Fact doesn't change. No matter whether I die or not.

"No."

Silence, for a moment.

"Then... then come with me."

I wonder what he means.

"Come and... and die of your own will. Come jump."

Silence.

The night is heavy.

It's growing heavier.

The static that isn't static is pulsing. It's curdling.

Souring.

"If you run... we'll kill you."

"And then... then we'll kill your friends."

Silence.

"Gregg, Angus - Bea. Bea, she'll die the slowest. We'll make it _last_ for her."

Silence.

I think I might be screaming.

Not aloud. Just... screaming.

"And Gregg, too. He knows too much. He'll guess that it isn't coincidence. And Angus. That cop - Molly, her name is."

"And Beatrice."

"You haven't told her yet, have you? How you feel."

Silence.

"She'll never know. And we'll kill her, nice and slow... tortuous."

Silence.

Static.

Blood.

Moon.

Yellow. Yellow moon.

Night.

Twilight.

"But if you come with us... if you jump..."

They're still talking. I'm still listening.

My body doesn't react.

"Then we'll leave them. You just gotta... gotta write 'em a note."

"A suicide note. Sign it. They'll all just think you were crazy - not like you haven't been actin' it recently."

"And... and they won't forget. They won't drop you. They'll remember you - as the nice girl who they could'a saved, if only they had seen what was under their noses."

"And... and you'll never have to look at them and see just..."

_Shapes._

He holds out his hand.

"Come with me, Mae. Come and die. Help this town."

"And be remembered."

I stare at the hand for a moment.

I look away.

Tree.

There's a tree there. It's shaking, in the howling wind. Shaking hard. It's branches are flailing - a dying man's arms.

Leafless.

...No. No, not leafless.

There's one last leaf. Hanging there - brown, shriveled, nearly dead. Hanging by a thread. Shaking terribly in the wind.

** _HURTS._ **

I decide.

Ten.

I'll give it ten.

And if, when I reach ten, the leaf doesn't fall - I'll run.

If it does...

I stare. The wind howls.

_One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh.
> 
> This popped in my head, fully formed. I liked writing it.
> 
> Well... kinda. It was cathartic, at least.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	6. Smuterlude: MaeBea First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut. Like, just smut, with a little fluff at the end.
> 
> You have been warned.

The door slammed open, and they fumbled into the room, stripping as they did.

Mae pulled back, breaths ragged and husky, and grinned at her. Sharp, and teasing, and _sexy as fuck how had she never noticed that._ The cat stepped back, closing the door behind her, and pinned her to a wall.

She sucked her into a kiss, nipping slightly at her bottom lip with sharp teeth. She moaned a little, though a tiny spark of pain ran up through her mouth. Or maybe because it did.

Man, she was one kinky bitch, huh?

Mae pulled back again, and she sucked in a few breaths she hadn’t even noticed she needed. Desperately.

And then Mae was stripping off her shirt.

“Ah, shit - aren’t you a virgin? You’re supposed to be bad at this.” She stuttered, as Mae tossed her shirt aside.

Mae grinned at her again. Another hot spark flew in her gut, though this time, it was like it lit a firecracker and fizzled powerfully instead of dissipating harmlessly.

“Guess I’m just a natural.” She answered, before going back to _driving her fucking crazy._

Mae was digging into her neck. Nuzzling her nose into the skin there and nipping at it with her sharp front teeth.

_Shit, how was I supposed to know getting a hickey was going to feel this good?_

“Ah, _fuck_ \- Maeday, you - _shit_ \- you really _are_ a f-fucking natural.” She managed to grit out, digging her fingers into Mae’s fur and letting loose an unshackled moan.

Her head tilted to give Mae better access - a chance she took with relish.

“Oh, BeeBee, you’re so fuckin’ sexy like this.” Mae _hissed,_ unlatching from her neck and baring her teeth. Sharp, pupils blown to the nines, teeth glinting and maybe just a little bloody. She couldn’t quite tell in the dim hotel lights.

_“All mine.”_ Mae went on, seemingly unable to help herself. And then claimed her lips again.

She should’ve been turned off by that.

She should’ve been leading.

But _fuck,_ did Mae know just what to do to defy her expectations.

The cat in question pulled back. Bea couldn’t help but chase after her lips slightly, pulled forward against her will, and Mae grinned a shark’s grin at her for the third time in half a minute.

She was shoved onto the bed.

Then Mae was on top of her. Plundering her mouth again, tongue working perfectly to drive her _out of her mind._

“You’re so perfect.” Mae whispered, in the breaths breaking up the aforementioned making out. “So sexy. So _wonderful._ Oh, _Christ,_ do you have _any_ idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

“No.” Bea gasped. Her bra was gone.

When had that happened?

“Seventh grade.” Mae hissed, going for the other side of her neck this time and _oh Christ had it felt this good the first time?_ “That fight. No reason behind it really.”

“It was because I wanted _this.”_ Mae went on, trailing her teeth across the skin and leaving a burning trail behind her. “Because every time I looked at you, I could only imagine having you in my bed, _gyrating_ and _moaning_ and ready to have your _brains fucked out.”_

“And you’re ready for that now, aren’choo, BeeBee?” She _purred,_ nipping at her ear.

It hurt.

Her hips thrusted up without her input, and she moaned.

Because _yes, she_ **_was_ ** _a kinky bitch, and hell yes she was ready._

“Oh, _fuck!”_ She couldn’t help but say, leaning forward to claim Mae’s delicious lips again.

But Mae leaned away, with another shark’s grin.

And then she was pinned to the bed by Mae’s paws, claws digging into her wrists.

...Where had the rest of her clothes gone?

“Oh, you’re so _precious.”_ Mae whispered, leaning down to nuzzle into her shoulder. “So _gorgeous._ So damn _perfect.”_

The cat’s eyes were wide, pupils still blown out, as she inhaled deeply and moaned.

“And you smell like cigarettes, and ink and paper and _fuck you’re wonderful, BeeBee.”_

Mae was actually, genuinely _purring_ against her neck, a deep, rumbling noise that sent tremors running up and down her spine.

This was fuckin’ _torture._

“Ah! - Oh, fuck, Maeday, Mea _please,_ just - ooh!”

Mae was digging into her neck again. It _really_ hurt this time - sparks of black, sluggish, shameful _lust_ digging into her ribs and making her absolutely _delirious._

_“Fuck.”_ Mae was hissing again, the sweetness and adoration in her voice sharpening to passion and possessiveness in an instant. Bea combed her fingers into the tuft of pinkish hair peeking up at her, and Mae looked up with wide, predatorial eyes.

“Do that again.”

“Do what again?” Bea asked, confused and flushed and _needy._

Mae licked a slow path up her neck - the sensitive skin there humming in pleasure below her. Bea moaned.

_“Beg.”_ Mae growled, staring up at her with smoldering eyes.

She flushed bright red, looking away. Unable to comply.

But then Mae latched onto her breast.

Those sharp teeth nipped, just barely, at the sensitive skin there, neglected and hot from the treatment she had been so willingly receiving. It was the lightest, most adorable nip she had ever seen, but it _felt…_

_Fuck, it felt like hell._

The _best_ kind of hell.

Electricity trailed sharply up and down her spine, jabbing knives and sparks lighting up her nerves. And that tiny little nip - painful and pleasurable and _awful_ and fucking _magical_ \- it instantly crumbled any embarrassment she felt.

“Shit - Mae, Maeday please, _please,_ just -”

She sucked in a heavy breath as Mae sucked gently on the abused flesh, heart thundering.

_“Please, oh please, please just give it to me -”_

And then Mae was kissing down her chest, and stomach, trailing her tongue _oh so slowly_ down until Bea’s legs were thrown over her shoulders.

And then she was kissing up a thigh.

Bea’s breaths were sharp and painful, little gasps that did nothing to help the dirty, uncomfortable flush across her body.

“Oh Mae, _please.”_ She whispered, hands reaching down and combing through the cat’s hair.

And that seemed to finally do it.

Mae choked in a half-whimper, half-gasp, pupils dilating sharply and turning into dagger fine points.

And delved in.

Bea moaned - a loose, unshackle, _loud_ thing that groaned up from deep within her ribcage, bubbling from her lips. Her head flew back against the sheets, even though she wanted _so badly_ to see Mae’s eyes as she did this.

It wasn’t quite that she was seeing stars. That implied she saw at all. She looked up at the ceiling - and, technically, she saw it - but her eyes were hazy and unfocused, and everything had dropped away but the sensation of Mae’s tongue.

She sucked in a little breath, but was unable to exhale. She just choked on it.

Because it was everything at once and it was almost _too much._

Her fingers gripped at Mae’s scalp, and she knew it had to be painful in some tiny corner of her mind, but _shit who the fuck cared?_

Well - judging by the loose moan Mae let out, the cat in question _certainly_ cared.

Her hips thrusted up into Mae. And, now that she had snapped, Mae seemed to have no interest in giving her anything but _exactly what she wanted._

She was almost _gentle…_

Finally, the breath trapped in her ribcage left her, and she began to babble.

“Oh fuck, _yes, yes please,_ oh God _YES -_ don’t stop, _don’t ever stop,_ you _perfect_ little - OH!”

She thrashed.

God, how had she not noticed just how _long_ Mae’s tongue was?

“A-ah _fuckkk-”_

Mae’s tongue curled, and she nearly _screamed._

_“How in hell -_ AH!”

How was she so fuckin’ _good_ at this?

Wasn’t she supposed to - _urgh_ \- be a virgin?

She made a noise halfway between a gasp and a whimper, and tried to gather her thoughts.

It wasn’t easy.

“Aren’t - _oh shit, yes_ \- a-aren’t you sup - _posed_ to be - _ah!_ \- be aaa _aaa-”_

It _really_ wasn’t easy.

“Virgin?” She finally managed to grit out, before a low groan bubbled up and released itself from her ribcage once again.

Mae looked up, and she actually _whimpered_ at the loss.

The cat licked her lips slowly with a predatory look in her eyes. Her paws were on Bea’s thighs, and her teeth glinted.

Bea stared, and gasped a little - sucking in a half-breath. A flare of pleasure burst in her gut, little painful shrapnels of lust digging into her flesh.

And Mae replaced her mouth with her hand.

The silky-smooth pads of her paw slid smoothly against her, pressed down _just_ right, and _ooohh_ -

And Mae stared at her reaction, pupils wide again. Blown to the nines. Like she was high, almost.

High on _her._

She moaned louder.

“Guess I’m just a natural.” Mae whispered _right next to her ear when had she gotten there?_

And then her unbearably long, hot, _wet_ tongue carved a path up the crest of her ear, and then spiraled _into_ it, tickling inside and _shit she was so fuckin’ whipped._

She was panting now.

And then Mae’s tongue was between her legs again, sliding _oh so smoothly,_ gently coaxing moan after broken moan out of her.

This time, though, her head was propped on the wall, and Mae was staring _right at her_ with eyes that fuckin’ _smoldered_ and-

And - and-

“Mae, _Mae,_ shit Maeday, _don’t stop, please, please don’t stop, please please please-”_

She chanted the word until it lost its meaning, until she was pleading just through the tone of her voice, fingers locked onto Mae’s skull in a death grip. Her legs wrapped around Mae and that _impossible tongue of her’s_ and-

_Fuuuuckkkkk-_

She screamed Mae’s name. Her spine went taut. Her fingers were bloodless from pressure.

A long, long pause, where she could do nothing but thrust up while wave after wave of pleasure hit her - and, all the while, Mae gently coaked her release further and further into the realms of delirium.

When she finally collapsed, she was not but a boneless puddle of goo.

She panted heavily, eyes hazy on the ceiling. Arms thrown back.

More relaxed than she had been in years.

After a moment, Mae was there too - snuggling into her chest and looking up at her with wide, doe-like eyes.

There was a pause.

“...Well, _shit_ Mae, you could’a warned me.” She said finally, voice sardonic and still a little breathless.

“...Warned you?” Mae asked gently, snuggling further into her and closing her eyes peacefully.

“That you’re _killer_ in bed.”

Mae giggled into her, smiling dopily.

“Was that… a pun?”

She blinked, and then groaned when she realized it _was_ a pun.

“Oh, shut up, you damn cat.”

Mae smirked into her, as she relented and curled up with her. She ran her hands through Mae’s fur again, and the cat in question purred lowly.

“That was perfect, BeeBee.” Mae whispered finally, sighing contentedly.

Bea blinked.

“Wait, did you even…?”

Mae looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“Even what?”

“Y’know…”

Mae blinked at her. And then laughed.

“Christ, even after _that_ you can’t say the word cum?”

Bea turned away, face uncomfortably flushed again - though for a very different reason this time.

“Oh, _shut up.”_

Mae simply snickered into her.

A pause.

“Yeah, I did.” Mae said finally.

“You… really? But I didn’t even-”

Mae cut her off with a snort.

“Oh, Bea, if you had _seen_ yourself, you would know that you hardly had too.”

Bea lit up red once more. Mae burrowed into her further, somehow.

“Now, just sleep up BeeBee.” Bea felt her grin. “You’ll need it when tomorrow roles around.”

Bea rolled her eyes.

“Horny little wench.”

“But can you _blame_ me?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She deadpanned.

Mae wriggled, breathing in her smell. Bea doubted she smelled like anything but filth and sweat, but Mae sighed, content, despite that.

“G’night BeeBee.” She whispered.

Bea smiled.

“G’night Maeday.”

* * *

It was only after a less frantic but equally satisfying bout of morning sex that Bea realized they had a problem.

“Excuse me, dearest Mae?”

Mae, already having encountered the _you fucked up_ tone, winced slightly, but turned to her with a sunny, spotlight smile.

“Yes, dearest Beatrice?”

She pointed to the very dark, very _obvious_ hickeys on her neck.

And it was truly a sign that she knew just how screwed they were that Mae’s eyes only flashed with possessive, satisfied lust for a tiny moment before she giggled, embarrassed and nervous.

“Erm… oops?”

The slaps upside the head which followed were the first bout of non-sexual contact they had had all morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This is my first time publishing smut and my record is forever tarnished. But, after all the angst last time, some good ole' smut and fluff should be good for me.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	7. Mae, Thought: Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Base game, when the gang goes to get pizza after the credits.

The diner wasn't silent, but their booth was. Save for the sounds of pizza eating, of course.

Gregg dug into his pizza with relish, swallowing chunks without chewing and usually leaving his mouth open when he _did_ chew. He had always hated crust, though - even stuffed crust was hit-or-miss for Greggory.

Angus, surprisingly, was similar to Gregg. He dug into his pizza in an almost disgusting fashion, eyes glinting predatorially. It was only in chewing that the differences lie - Angus always ground up his food. Usually quickly, and with his mouth closed.

Mae, of course, was near identical to Gregg. Digging into the pizza with relish. But, there _was_ a difference or two. The most obvious being that - even if Gregg didn't chew, he always swallowed before getting his next bite.

Mae had no such restraint.

And Bea, of course, leaned back and ate with a kind of reserved grace that always made Mae smile a little. She wasn't attracted to Bea - God, they were like sisters - but Bea could be surprisingly adorable sometimes. And her reserved eating and stealing habits, when opposed to her goth aesthetic, made many of those moments.

...They deserved it, really. They had earned a good pizza, eaten without a care in the world.

Only problem was, the diner didn't serve good pizza - so they got two instead, and tried to double down on the 'without a care in the world' bit. Angus was eating with less restraint than Mae had ever seen, and Bea seemed to be managing not thinking too much fairly well.

Heh. She was proud of her metaphorical sister. Not thinking like a champ with the rest of the gang.

She snickered. Everyone glanced at her.

"Whashup, dude?" Gregg asked through a mouthful of pizza. Bea glared at him, and he swallowed noisily.

"I was just thinking - we should all, like, become blood siblings. Y'know? Like they did in medieval days and shit."

Bea put a hand on her face and scowled a little. "Mae, that isn't-"

"DUDE!!!" Gregg shouted, leaning forward with a massive grin. "That's a GREAT idea!!"

"I know, right?"

"Oh, for eff's sake, you two." Bea sighed with a roll of her eyes, though Mae could've sworn there was a fond lilt to it.

"...It's not a bad idea, actually." Angus said after a moment, adjusting his glasses. Mae grinned, and Gregg howled triumphantly.

"HELL YEAH!! Let's become blood brothers, duders - I got knives for all of us -"

"You have _four_ knives?" Bea cut in.

"Don't ask." Mae whispered to her. She blinked slowly, and then sighed, resigned.

"Yeah, you're right."

Knives were passed around. Bea sneered a little when she got her's, but grabbed it anyway - after one appropriately pleading look from Mae.

_Really,_ Mae couldn't help but think with a grin, _my about to be blood sister is just a big pushover._

"Okay, hold up - just to confirm - we're _actually_ doing this? Because, frankly, this is stupid on every level." Bea asked quickly with a raised eyebrow.

Mae simply grinned at her, and sliced her thumb open. It barely even hurt, really, in comparison to all those knife fights.

Bea sighed once more, but reluctantly pricked the surface of her thumb, hissing slightly in pain. Mae smiled approvingly at her, and she sneered back.

They all leaned forward, and pressed their bloody thumbs together, interlacing hands.

A pause.

"It feels like we should, like, say something." Mae said, after a moment.

"In the time of the mongols, they would exchange gifts." Bea offered.

Mae grinned at her. At...

At her _sister._

_"Neerrrd."_

Bea rolled her eyes. Gregg hummed thoughtfully.

"We can do presents tomorrow." Gregg decided, after a long moment of deliberation. "For now - pizza!!"

They all pulled apart. Bea wiped off her thumb on her pant leg and sucked on it.

Mae instantly delved for another slice of aforementioned pizza.

The chorus of pizza eating filled the room once more. For another long moment, nobody said anything.

"...Hey, guys?"

They all glanced at Mae.

"...Love you."

There was a pause.

And then Gregg crowed, and threw himself across the table to grip her into a death hug.

"Aaaww, duder - I love you too!"

"As friends." Angus clarified, smiling a little. "But yeah, me too."

Gregg shook her one last time, and pulled back.

A pause.

And everyone turned to Bea expectantly.

The crocodile in question glanced at them, and then gave yet another resigned sigh.

"Christ - of _course_ I love you, Maeday." She said, with a roll of her eyes. "You damn pain in the ass."

Mae grinned with sparkling eyes, and gripped Bea in a death hug of her own. Bea made a startled noise.

"Aww, thanks sis!"

Bea froze.

"...Oh my God, you're going to call me that constantly now, aren't you." She finally said. It sounded more like a statement then a question.

Gregg laughed. "Hell yeah we are, big sis!"

Mae's eyes glittered with mischief up at her, arms still around her torso.

Bea sighed once more. And yet, she couldn't quite bring herself to be too annoyed.

(They did exchange gifts the next day. When Bea opened Mae's gift box, left on her doorstep that morning, she was both surprised and a little touched to find a complete set of American History volumes, bound in green leather.

She was neither surprised nor touched when Gregg got her a porno magazine, with a card that read - 'to help with stress - considering you and Mae haven't fucked yet'.

She _was_ bright red for about two minutes, though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To balance out the smut last time, we get some sibling bonds this time. Little weird to have those back-to-back, but whatever.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	8. Mae, Thought: Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Game, after the softball incident. Dr. Hank suggests journalling.

_ Sometimes I think I’m a psychopath. _

The pen lifts from the period, and you stare down at the page.

The room isn’t really something that screams ‘personable’. Most rooms, in stories or in reality, are a reflection of a myriad of traits that identify the person at the center of it. Really, they're shrines - in the same way they become tombs when that person dies. A piece of them, sitting there, tied forever to the earthly plane. Though, perhaps it is the most worthless kind of piece - that may yet be why it’s the most long-lasting.

One big shrine to a person, where atop the alter sits nothing but that man. A tribute, not to some nebulous god, but to a single normal human.

It always made you feel oddly good, to know that everyone had their own alter. A kind of warmth, at the pit of your stomach. Bubbling hot chocolate, sweet, and easy to indulge.

Your tomb was empty. Almost entirely.

Easier to clean.

There were a few things here and there, of course. A guitar-shaped case in the corner - plain white, with a tingle red ‘t’ drawn shakily at the bottom of it. A messy bed. A white board on stilts, with no drawings. A poster our parents got you and which you hung up for them - Marvel. Never been an interest of yours, but the films weren’t awful, you suppose.

Really, the most telling thing, personality-wise, about the room was the fact that it was the attic. Musty and dusty and stuffy and awful. Hot in Summer, cold in Winter. Drafty. Very drafty.

Everything about the room made you seem quite boring, really. Which you supposed you were.

The pen in your hands was cold, as always. Cold with the draft of the room. Cold from sitting there, constantly, with no covering. Cold because it was metal. Cold because it was conductive.

You stared down at the page.

You had tried this journal thing more than a few times in the past. Tedious, very tedious. Writing thoughts and feelings, all not worth reading, always made you feel like a hack. And plus, it was just plain boring.

Why write your thoughts, when you’ve already thought them?

There were a thousand things you could follow that sentence up with. A thousand wonderful things. A thousand things that would make that first sentence seem pitiable rather than awful. A thousand things anybody would want to read, and which would convince them that you were normal.

You…

You didn’t want to write any of them.

You stared down at the page, and considered leaving it there. Considered closing it with a  _ slap, _ and dropping it. Permanently. Or maybe just leaving today’s entry to that. Maybe just leaving it for a few hours.

But, staring down at the slightly yellow, mostly empty page, you couldn’t help but think there was more to write.

The text was so lonely. Sitting there, in a plain of lined yellow. Continuous, repeating -  _ boring. _ It would be terrible to be that text. Nothing to look at.

You tried to put the pen to the paper. Tried to write something. But nothing came.

The pen, really, wasn’t even really too important. It was the vessel for thought. It was as important as a finger, or hand. Maybe a full arm if you were generous. You needed only to have thoughts to put down to use the pen. It made your thoughts physical.

Like hands.

You considered changing the subject, and coming back to psychopathy. Writing something like  _ love _ or  _ friends, _ a subject which was easier to explain and would easily wrap back around to that starter subject. Make it nice and cohesive.

That’s what you would do if it were a school assignment.

But a journal was supposed to be a place where you were… well,  _ you. _ Not what the people wanted you to be.

...So, who were you?

_ Heh. Ain’t that the question. _

You stared at the empty space.

So big. So impossible. So much space to fill. Fill with nothing but those little, fleeting thoughts, darting through your head and impossible to grab. Slippery as eels.

Thoughts were so fickle. They could, and would, vanish in an instant if left alone. They darted to and fro, never quite completely directed. It seemed as if every person could never be fully focused, because, no matter what, their thoughts were impossible to completely direct. They always darted about, impossible to grab. Impossible to gather.

Gathering one’s thoughts is, really, a nearly impossible task. Clearing one’s thoughts is equally hard.

No wonder you had so much trouble sleeping.

You stared at the empty space. A space that you were supposed to splatter with your thoughts.

You had no thoughts worthy of being put down. Nothing you wanted to write.

You could never put them into words, even if you did.

You stared up, at the ceiling. The drafty, awful, wooden ceiling. Boards peeling and likely to give you a dozen splinters at a touch. Caving up.

_ Heh. A ton of worthless empty space. _

You looked down at the page.

Nothing to write.

Nothing to put.

Empty space, waiting to be filled with thoughts you didn’t have.

Waiting for something that would never come.

_ Like a UPS package. _

Heh.

...Huh.

That was a thought.

You stared down at the page, for just a moment, before putting your pen down. With something to write, finally.

When it lifted, there was a crappy doodle of a guy sitting on a porch, head leaned against a hand.

Waiting for a package that would never come.

You stared.

The empty space was full.

...That didn’t take much.

Just one good thought.

And it… felt rather good, didn’t it?

Maybe Dr. Hank wasn’t so awful.

You closed the journal, and put it in your pocket. Kept it around.

In case you had another thought later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on my descriptions a little. This was really more a thought experiment than anything.
> 
> Fun, though. Still nice, to be able to write for five minutes and have something to publish.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	9. Lori, Thought: Trainwreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Game, the day of the epilogue. Lori and Mae hang out at the tracks.

“You believe I’m in a band?”

I stared up at the infinite sky. It was dusk, this time - orange and purple swirling into a kaleidoscope of beauty. The bottom edges of the clouds were lit purple at their edges, and a sunray barely peeked out from the edge of my vision.

One of my hands was rested on my stomach - uncomfortable thin as always. I had always been gaunt, ribs poking out and cheeks shallow.

Mom had always said I looked like a skeleton.  _ Weird enough for you, too, eh? _ She had added - not surprising, considering how much of a passive-aggressive bitch she was.

“Huh. Really?” I said calmly, not glancing at Mae.

“Yeah dude.”

There was a pause.

“You ever consider doing music?”

I considered for a moment.

“Eh. Not unless it’s for a score to my film.”

Mae’s voice had a smile in it when she responded.

“Thanks for giving me a role, by the way. Just realized I never mentioned that.”

“Dude.” I said. My tone was flat. “Don’t even.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You hardly need to thank me. I mean… you’re the only person who really cares about it at the moment, anyway. It was practically a no-brainer.”

“Well, still.” Mae said. “Thanks.”

Another pause.

I felt the rumbling vibrations of an incoming train against my heels. I curled my legs up.

There was a sound like an earthquake. The trains, I thought slowly, were almost like a horror creature in and of themselves. So fast they’re a blur, able to kill you with only a rumble as a warning. Crashing suddenly past, tearing the wind in half and destroying any semblance of calm. Screeching angrily when they missed you.

A horror film about a train was destined to be awful, though. It was, like - preordained. And it would have to have some awful punny title, too - ‘trainwreck’, maybe. Or ‘off the rails’.

Those would be the subtitles, too. Like, the taglines. ‘This flick is off-the-rails scary - 10/10, from Horror Aficionados Inc.’

I chuckled a little under my breath.

“What’s up, duder?”

Damn. Hadn’t expected her to hear that.

Mae always listened to me too damn closely.

“Just - thinking about bad horror movies.”

I stretched my legs out again as I heard the rattling wheel sounds fade. Mae did the same.

“What about them?”

“Coming up with a few ideas for one.”

“Like, you’re gonna make one, or like it just comes to you?”

“The latter.”

A pause.

“Well? Don’t leave me hangin’ - what’s the idea?”

I hesitated.

  
“...No. No, it was dumb. Nevermind.”

“Uh. Alright.”

“...You’re in a band?”

“Heh. Yeah, dude. I play bass.”

“Who are you in a band with?”

“Uh, just a few friends of mine. Gregg, Bea, and Angus.”

I blinked.

“Y’know, it had never occurred to me that you had other friends.”

Mae snorted.

“Yeah - shockingly enough, people other then you  _ do _ actually like me.”

I winced. My chest started to feel a little heavy.

“I didn’t - uh - I didn’t mean to -  _ huff _ \- to -  _ puff,” _

I tried to gather my thoughts. It didn’t work.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -  _ huff, puff _ \- I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.”

“Dude - ah, geez - it’s fine, man, I was just kidding.”

I tried to catch my breath.

The looming spectre of the sky, unwavering, helped a little.

What if I made a horror movie about the sky? Like, if the  _ sky _ was the monster?

Or maybe, like, just dusk. Like, if you were out at dusk, you lost your mind or died or something. Or like, became a monster.

Maybe a really pale one. Yeah. Like, real pasty - and they’d move like a four-legged spider, too. And maybe their legs would be like, twisted at the knees, so they were all fucked up. That way, the joints would go out like a spider.

And the noise they made would be like a kind of ‘yiiiieeeeeee’, y’know? Like, uh, like a coyote howl or something. But, like, scratchier.

“Sorry.” I whispered, finally able to breath again.

“It’s no problem, dude. Really.”

Another pause.

“So… uh… you wanna drop by for band practice one day?”

“Huh?”

I turned to Mae. She didn’t look at me. Her hands were folded on her stomach, as usual, and those big reddish eyes of hers were fixed on the sky.

“Yeah. Y’know - meet some of my friends. The gang. I bet you and Germ would get along.”

“I - uh…”

I trailed off, unsure how to answer.

Mae turned and smiled at me. Her teeth glinted in the setting sunlight.

The urge to lick them was just as powerful as it was odd.

“Really dude. I’d like to bring you into my little personal cult.”

Despite the fact that the words were phrased like a joke, Mae’s voice fell oddly flat.

“I…”

A pause.

I gathered the last vestiges of courage in my bubbling stomach.

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Wait -  _ really?” _

Mae blinked at me.

“I mean… sure, whatever.”

I tried to sound nonchalant. Luckily, my abysmal attempt was swept over easily as Mae positively  _ beamed _ at me.

My fingers twitched strongly, and an odd feeling gathered in my ears. Like water was filling them.

Despite the fact that fear had gathered and knotted tightly in my stomach, I felt all my worries - and, really, all my coherent thoughts - wash away at that smile.

I smiled back.

_ Ugly. Your smile is ugly. _

_ Ugly, ugly, ugly. Gross. Awful. Weird. _

_ Don’t smile. Don’t laugh. Don’t talk. _

_ Your smile is weird. Your laugh is weird. Your voice is weird. _

_ You’re weird. _

_ You’re ugly. _

_ You’re awful. _

And yet, Mae’s smile merely widened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so - to those of you who read my bigger NitW fanfic, 'A Lack of Proximity', this message is for you. I won't be doing a full update on the actual fic this time, so I'll just put it here for ya'll.
> 
> Uh - nothing has gotten better or more stable. I'm still not writing hardly anything NitW related. And this break isn't going to end for probably another week at least.
> 
> ...Sorry.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	10. Mae and Germ, Thought; From Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Base game, day before Harfest.

“Wanna hang out?”

Germ’s voice was a croak, as always. Oddly deep and rumbling - like he had swallowed an engine or a cheese grater. His beak clicked sharply on every word, adding an odd on-and-off rhythm to his words that fit him oddly well.

“Um, I’m supposed to be going out to the tracks with Lori…”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be propositioned for a mercenary job.” Germ croaked, in his usual perfect deadpan that made her totally unsure whether he was joking or not.

It was something odd that she found herself liking about Germ - he always deadpanned. Even when it seemed obvious he was making a joke, the fact that he never smiled always made her a little bit unsure.

“Uh, alright then!” She said with a shrug. She was starting to look forward to hanging out with Germ more and more, if only for his odd attitude and his complete dedication to always speaking his mind. Mae doubted he had ever lied to anyone about what he thought about them, and the fact that he seemed to like hanging out with her too was something she found herself a little bit happy about. Especially since he seemed to be something of a recluse.

Even if he did hang out with Gregg and ride bikes, he didn’t really seem to have any  _ friends. _ Just… acquaintances.

But she was glad to fill that void for the odd, croaky bird.

“Cool! Let’s go.”

Sometimes, despite the fact that he never smiled, his voice would change to an excited chirp or he would make an exclamation that made it clear what he was feeling. His voice had an odd amount of nuance - which made sense, considering his lack of facial expressions.

“You know the drill. Hop on my bike.”

She hopped behind the Food Donkey and onto the bike in question.

Hanging out with Germ was… well, never boring, at least.

* * *

“Okay, we’re here!” He chirped, cutting her off mid-sentence. It was a habit of his - he seemed to have his own code of conduct, which was  _ close _ to normal but omitted or added a few important details here and there.

She hopped off the bike and began to trek through the woods.

“So, what’re we doing?”

“Trees.” Germ said simply.

“Trees?”

They  _ were _ in a forest, but the statement - as she should’ve expected, really - seemed to have nothing to do with her statement.

Germ gestured to the trees in question. They towered over her - the tallest she had ever seen. Their bark had an odd, crumbly texture that scratched at her hand. Very… frictionous.

As in, inducing a lot of friction.

“They’re big.” She said, as the silence stretched on a little too long.

“Yep.” Germ croaked, peering up and squinting away sunbeams.

“These are good’uns.” He went on, sounding (though Mae couldn’t be sure) pleased.

“Since when do you say ‘good’uns’?”

“My cousins say it a lot.” Germ answered, rushing through the words as usual with that weird stop-and-go rhythm. “They have thick accents.”

“Oh.”

Germ ran full-pelt towards one of the trees, and jumped - honestly, higher then she thought he could’ve - grabbing the trunk.

“Woah!”

“Climb ‘em!” Germ chirped, beak clicking. “They’re good for that!”

Germ proceeded to prove his own point by shuffling up the tree so quickly that he was a mere postage stamp in her vision within moments.

“Uhh… okay.”

Run, and…

_ Jump jump JUMP! _

She latched onto the tree, claws digging into the crumbly wood. It scratched at the pads of her paw, but otherwise wasn’t too bad - though the smell of sap was thick in the air.

She climbed the tree - far more carefully than Germ, but with speed that spoke of experience.

_ Heh. Me and Bea used to climb trees, when we were in girl scouts. _

_ Oh, she FREAKED when I fell that one time. Got that cut on my hip. Made me swear off climbing. _

She winced.

_ Well… I’m sure that doesn’t extend this long! _

As she got higher, the branches became close enough packed that she could hop from those instead. It was a far safer option, considering the obvious sturdiness of said branches.

By the time she had reached the top, Germ was hanging off the very tip - leaning into nothing, with one leg and one arm wrapped around the trunk and a hand blocking the setting sunlight.

She sat on the farthest protruding branch, leaves thin enough that she could see the skyline. It just barely peaked through the forest, rolling out forever into towns and roads. She could see the abandoned glass factory and the bus station, and the water tower with ‘Nuke Possum Springs’ in letters just large enough that she could make them out.

“Look!” Germ chirped suddenly. “My place!”

Mae turned to where he was pointing. Far in the distance was a cottage, with a trampoline the size of a pool next to it. Honestly, the trampoline was only a little smaller than the house.

“Huh. You and your parents live there, or do you have siblings?”

“Oh yeah, dude.” Germ answered, voice returning to its usual croak. “I’ve got a whole brood.”

“Y’know, it’s kinda weird, but I never imagined you… like… being from somewhere, y’know?”

“Uh… nope. I don’t know.” He clarified at Mae’s blank look.

“Like… I dunno. I just imagined you like… springing from the earth, fully formed.”

“Like a plant?”

“Like a plant.” She allowed, though that really wasn’t quite the same thing. “Just, y’know… never imagined like… baby Germ.”

“Y’know there’s a plant called Germ?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s like… wheat, but lame.”

“Huh.”

There was a pause.

...She was reminded, suddenly, of her first time hanging out with Germ. She had, honestly, not thought much of him - two years younger, super weird, just kinda… hangin’ out in front of the Snack Falcon. For  _ no reason. _

But when she had started talking to him, she had found herself oddly drawn in by his off-beat personality and unfailing confidence. He was weird - and, from a certain perspective, rude - but he still struck her as… interesting, at least.

“Y’know, back in the parking lots, how you said you can see all the sky?”

“Yeah?”

“Here you can see, like… all the ground.”

Germ blinked.

“...Huh. You’re right.”

“Yep.”

There was another pause.

“Y’know, when I was a kid,” Germ said suddenly, “I was like - super hyper.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Yeah. I would, like - dance.”

“Dance?”

“Like, next to my desk. When I was supposed to be doing stuff - colouring a snowman, or something.”

“Huh.”

She found herself saying that a lot around Germ.

“I ate all the cookies once.” Mae answered. “In girl scouts. We were supposed to sell them - but I just ate them all.”

“Weren’t you in that with… what’ser name… drummer laptop girl in your band…”

“Bea.” Mae provided. “Yeah, I was. ...How did you know that?”

“Gregg talks a lot.” Germ answered. “He says you and Bea had a romantic connection.”

She groaned, even as Germ went on,

“His exact words were - ‘they were totally gonna fuck if they didn’t have that fight’.”

Mae groaned louder.

“Gregg doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Germ blinked slowly.

“He seems like he does.”

“Well, he doesn’t.” She said sourly.

“Okay.”

Another pause.

“Y’think I’ll die if I just jump off this?”

Mae glanced down. Her stomach lurched a little.

“Yes. You will die.”

“Yep.”

“Yeppers.” Mae said, channeling her inner janitor.

“Yes’m.”

“Yessir.”

“Yar.”

A beat.

“‘Yar’?”

Germ inclined his head sagely. “Yar.”

“Yar.” Mae acquiesced.

A beat.

“You think being a pirate would be fun?” Mae asked.

“Nah. I heard they, like - torture people and stuff.”

“Gregg would make a good pirate.” Mae answered intelligently.

“Yar.” Germ agreed with a nod.

“Yar.” Mae concurred.

A beat.

“It’s getting late, dude.” Mae said, looking out over the horizon.

“I think it looks later then it is.”

“Still. I wouldn’t risk it. Lori’ll be bummed.”

Germ seemed to consider this carefully.

“Yar.” He eventually said - and slid down the tree like a firepole. Mae was surprised his coat didn’t catch fire from the amount of friction, as she hopped down after him.

“Well, seeya!” Germ chirped, once she had reached the bottom.

“Bye-o, duder.”

And Germ walked off in the direction she now knew led to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I've written something with Germ in it!
> 
> This was quite a bit of fun. I was just watching some NitW content, and I saw the scene with Germ and Rabies again, and I was just like - 'Me should write Germ'.
> 
> So I wrote Germ. Like?
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.
> 
> P.S: Nope, still no Lack of Proximity news. I might be writing some Alternate Perspective stuff in my other NitW fic, though - uh, 'Between the Hour and Minute Hands'. Probably end up writing chapter 12 from Mae's perspective, because that's still one of my favorites.


	11. Journal Entries From A Lovesick Mae

Thought: I can’t think straight

Thought: Too many teeth :D

Thought: Mirrors really need to stop glaring at me

Thought: Bea needs a big, fluffy hug

oh god i gave bea a big fluffy hug and now shes mad and weird whatdidido

Thought: Maybe trash a place that isnt a bathroom

Thought: Cute boys = bad, does that mean cute girls = bad?

Thought: Bea is adorable

Note to self: Do not try and call Bea adorable again

Gregg Rulz Ok

Thought: home is where the heart twists and pumps weird

Note to self: Make Bea smile more somehow

Note to self: Write more note-to-selfs

Thought: Y is the best letter maybe???

Thought: Night is better then day

Note to self: start bringing Bea outside at dark more

Thought: Bea’s eyes are like glitter and i never noticed????

why is gregg smiling so much like that stopit gregg its not funny

Note to self: Bring Bea along when we go look at dusk stars again

Thought: Bea is a massive dork

July 4th hype!!!

Fireworks = LOUD

my ears are falling off i need those

Thought: bea road trip go to the grand canyon maybe???

Thought: Become a clock maker with a beard

Thought: Grow a beard

Note to self: Do not try and make a fake beard

would gregg look good with a mustache?

germ: facial hair efishianado

Note to self from Bea: its spelled aficionado

Thought: Learn to spell

Thought: Become a wizard

DEMONTOWER IS TOO HARD

  
  
  


Note to self: Get a sword and/or battleaxe

Yay Sleepover!!!

bea likes my bass playing????

Bea, BAF not BFF

bea is a bamf

Note to self: don’t stare at Bea again

Thought: Bea needs to loosen up

i gave bea another hug and shes all weird again o no

Note to self: Give Bea a knife

Thought: Knives make good birthday presents maybe???

Thought: pendulum would be a good band name

BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!

Operation: Take Anguses hat

Operation Successful!

bea looks cute with a hat why is she cute with a hat

Note to self: Bea doesn’t like hats

Thought: Angus is super blind

Spider Rave!!!!

bea looks really good at sunset

Thought: Bea needs sunglasses

Thought: Name bass something cool

Names:

~~ Evelyn ~~

~~ Anita ~~

~~ Eunice ~~

~~ Aanya ~~

Aliza!!

Note to self: Aliza needs new strings

Last Band Practice

Goodbye Gregg and Angus :(

Gregg Ruled Ok

come back casey i need a hug

bea has warm arms

Thought: Bea likes giving hugs more then she likes getting them

hit beas dad when possible

Night I I Wandering

Thought: Try and find more roadside weddings

Thought: Marry someone on a road???

glittering glass

bea has long legs

Thought: Never think about that again

i thought about it o gods

bea looks weird again

bea tastes like dark chocolate

oh god i fucked bea

Thought: The sun is really bright this morning

Its a good day to be alive. Thats all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really fun to just jot down. I don't think I'll ever do anything like this again, but it was fun while it lasted.
> 
> I'm chipping away at that Lack of Proximity chapter. It's coming along - just very, very slowly.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	12. Bea, Thought: Leading On

Mae was silent.

This was an odd occurrence, even with all the time they had been spending together on this god-forsaken (but surprisingly fun) road trip. Mae talked a lot, and she rarely kept to a single subject. The way she hopped about in conversation from topic to topic always made  _ some _ sort of sense, but was still incredibly hard to keep up with.

Bea thought, sometimes, that she was the only one capable of it.

But Mae was silent.

It wasn’t a bad thing, though. Maybe, that night-

(as that was how she always thought of it now.  _ That night. _ The night that everything changed, half the town died, every Casey missing poster became a lie being waved in front of their face, and Bea stared over the head of her best friend and saw the person hurting her and wanted nothing more then to actually genuinely fucking kill them.)

-she would’ve been worried about what Mae was thinking. But now…

These, really, were the moments she had missed, when she and Mae had stopped talking. The moments when they were both quiet, and the silence between them was easy and heavy in a way so few things were.

She glanced over at her best available friend.

The girl was looking up at the night sky silently, eyes wandering across the velvet expanse with an almost loving gentleness. She had the smallest, barely noticeable smile on her face.

Bea felt the familiar, nostalgic desire to never look away.

Mae’s eyes were bloody. Her pupils shone velvet red in the night light, awash in a field of pale yellow. Those pupils were piercing. They were blood red, wide and consuming.

Bea felt an old memory wash to the forefront of her mind - a cold day spent in a tent, back in girl scouts, when she and Mae had slept together for warmth. She had made the mistake of glancing at Mae’s tired, half-lidded eyes, and had never wanted to look away.

When Mae had glanced up and asked if there was something on her face, Bea had turned away and answered with a flat ‘no’.

She felt the same thing again, staring at Mae’s wandering, loving eyes. The desire to never look away from them.

She almost tilted her head away at that moment, knowing that she would have to eventually.

But then the question came, as it always did.

_ Why? _

...Why.

Why did she have to look away?

Mae was her friend, she wouldn’t mind. She had said she wanted what Bea wanted, and Bea didn’t want to look away. Ever.

She realized that she  _ could _ just keep looking.

She smiled softly at the revelation, and shifted a bit on the car hood to get a little more comfortable.

She was going to be here a while.

It took a bit for Mae to notice, which wasn’t a surprise. Her eyes simply drifted along the sky for a long time, loving and distant. Sparkling like blood-red, black-polished rubies.

But - after a bit where Bea didn’t have to worry about anything at all for the first time in… well, in a while - Mae glanced over and caught her eye.

There was a short moment when Mae seemed a bit startled to find her staring.

“...Do I have something on my face?”

Bea almost laughed at the familiar line, but refrained. Instead, she just smiled.

Mae blinked in what might have been disbelief.

“Yeah.”

Mae blinked again, hand reaching up to touch her cheek.

“Oh. Uh - where?”

Bea smiled a bit wider and reached up, pointing at Mae’s eyes.

Mae blinked a third time.

“You’re… pointing at my eyes.”

“Yep.”

Mae looked dreadfully confused, brow furrowed and eyes glimmering with incomprehension.

“I… don’t follow.”

Bea didn’t respond.

Mae was beginning to look almost… nervous. Her eyes seemed both drawn to Bea’s face and incredibly scared of it. They would dart to her, and then dart away just as quickly, like they wanted to glance at her but not actually  _ see _ her.

“Why would you…”

Mae’s voice was just as confused as her eyes. When the girl glanced at her, darting and quick but this time managing to stay on her face, she simply raised an eyebrow - as if daring her to finish her question.

She found that she was having fun.

Mae looked away, turning back to the sky and scratching at her neck. It was clear she wasn’t really looking at the stars anymore, though. Her eyes wandered the black expanse above them without any of the loving grace she had possessed just a moment before. Instead, they batted about anxiously, distracted and maybe a little panicked.

She glanced at Bea again, and instantly glanced away when she was still staring.

It took another moment of distracted stargazing before Mae seemed capable of trying to question her again.

“Uh - BeeBee? Why’re you staring at me?”

Bea simply shrugged. After all, she hardly understood why she wanted so badly to never look away from Mae’s eyes.

All she knew was that the decision to not look away was the best one she had made all night.

“Because I didn’t want to look away.” She said after a moment, voice suggesting it was the simplest thing in the world.

Mae glanced at her side-long. This time, her eyes didn’t dart away. In fact, they seemed almost trapped in Bea’s gaze - frozen, wide, unable to look away.

“Oh.” She breathed.

Bea blinked slowly, a little confused by the odd timbre the girl’s voice had taken.

“Uh - well, um - d’you mind if I… return the favor?”

Mae’s voice rose a little higher on the last word then it needed to. It cracked a bit.

Bea raised a sharp eyebrow, and made mocking air-quotes as she said,

“‘Return the favor’?”

Mae blushed for the first time Bea could remember. She scratched at her neck again.

“Uh - y’know, like… stare back?” She laughed quietly, fake and strained.

Bea couldn’t help the short, surprised blink that left her.

“...Feel free.”

Mae’s shoulders stiffened, like she hadn’t expected Bea to actually answer with an affirmative.

She turned very slowly.

Still - no matter how slow - she ended up in the same place. Lying on her side, in almost exactly the same pose as Bea. Staring directly into her eyes.

Bea decided that she was glad Mae had asked. It was much easier to look into her eyes like this.

The thought flashed across her mind, short and ignored, that they were pretty close together.

There was a long moment where Bea felt perfectly at ease and Mae was growing more and more nervous, stomach bubbling like molten lead.

“Uh - Bea?”

“Mae.” She acknowledged in a perfect deadpan.

“Uh - are you - I mean, um, do you - do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Mae’s words stumbled over each other, like they were trying to stay in her mouth. Bea stared, a little incredulous.

She had never seen Mae act quite like this.

“Shoot.” She said anyway, deciding to ignore the odd way Mae’s voice was strained and the way her eyes darted.

“Are you - you’re straight, right?”

She stared.

“...Of course.”

“Right. Okay. I mean - I thought so, but. You can’t be too sure, y’know?”

Mae laughed that fake, strained laugh again.

“I mean - technically, I’ve never  _ checked, _ but I think I know what I’m attracted to.” Bea said, unable to stop the thought before it left her.

That was something odd that she had noticed about hanging out with Mae. She never quite put on the same filter that she normally did - making sure to double- and triple-check her thoughts before she said them.

Mae froze up completely. Bea was almost startled by how quickly everything in her seemed to suddenly go totally rigid.

“...Checked?” She choked out.

Bea decided not to voice her confusion, though it bled very obviously into her tone and posture as she responded.

“...Yeah? Y’know, like - I’ve never tried anything with another woman before.”

“Oh.”

Mae’s voice had taken on that odd, breathy note again. Like she had just run a marathon.

Bea was starting to grow a little concerned.

“Well, I mean, we could-”

Mae’s voice suddenly choked off. It was all the more noticeable, because that sentence had come out so quickly that it was almost like it was rushing to be heard, and then it had just… died.

“...We could?” Bea prompted, moving her hand in a tiny ‘go on’ gesture.

Mae instantly made a tiny, panicked noise and shook her head.

“No. No, nevermind. It was dumb. Don’t listen to me - always thinking dumb things, right BeeBee?”

She laughed that weak, fake laugh again. Bea furrowed her brow.

“No, come on, don’t be like that.” She said, gently chiding in a way that she never would’ve been before this road trip. “Let’s hear it. I mean, it can’t be worse then your bass playing, right?”

The dry, slightly deadpan lilt came to her voice as easily as ever. The steps in a waltz she had danced with Mae a million times.

And yet, Mae missed her step.

Bea really started to worry that something might be wrong when Mae didn’t even weakly protest the sentiment, and instead just shook her head again.

“No, it was dumb.” She repeated, almost panicked.

“...Are you okay, Maeday? You’re acting a little…”

She trailed off as Mae instantly stiffened again.

“Yep! Totally fine! All good here, nothing to worry about!”

She laughed again. She was starting to do that a lot.

“In that case, you can tell me your idea.” Bea said, with a perfect eyebrow raise.

Mae looked rather like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“Uh… well…”

She wrung her hands.

“I was just… I mean… I just thought maybe…”

_ “Youcouldtestifyou’regaywithmerightnow,” _ she whispered, fast as humanly possible. Still, after years of decoding that kind of speak with Angus, Bea had no trouble catching every word.

She blinked.

“...’Test’ it? In what way?”

Mae hunched in on herself a little more when it was clear Bea had heard her. She sent the goth a darting glance, anxious and weak.

“Just… like…  _ bylikekissingmemaybe?” _

She said it even quieter this time, but they were close enough that it hardly even mattered. She sent Bea another darting glance, this one even more anxious - terrified, even. Almost seeming to  _ beg _ that she hadn’t been heard.

Bea blinked. Slowly.

Twice.

Thrice.

She took a tiny moment to review the sentence in her head, just to make sure there hadn’t been some miscommunication.

...No, yeah, Mae had definitely just offered to kiss her.

“Mae, I’m… flattered, but-”

Mae instantly recoiled a little and held two hands in front of her, like she was trying to defend herself.

“No, no! No, I’m not like - this isn’t like me hitting on you! It’s just like…”

She glanced down and glanced back and forth, like she was searching for the right words.

“...Like, I’m just offering, y’know?” She laughed weakly again. “Just, like - you’d rather test it with a friend, right?”

She darted a pleading glance up at Bea.

“Oh.”

Well, that was good, at least. Bea wasn’t quite the type to let people down easy - and she had  _ just _ gotten her relationship with Mae back, she didn’t want that gone just because of this one weird moment.

...But, now that that little miscommunication was out of the way…

She could actually consider the offer.

It wasn’t…

Well, okay, she obviously wasn’t attracted to Mae. Mae was, honestly, the closest thing she had to a sister. They had even done that stupid blood-bond thing the day after that night-

_ (That night. _ The night she had seen Mae at her weakest. The night her best friend in the whole world had shambled into Gregg’s apartment, half-dead. The night she had looked into Mae’s eyes and seen a stranger staring back at her. The only night she had ever wanted to kill someone. The night she had finally learned why Mae left college, and wanted to slap her former self for being so damn pissed about it.

The night she had woken up without Mae and felt truly terrified for the first time in her life.)

-to cement it.

But she was right. Bea wasn’t technically sure of her sexuality, and kissing Mae - loath as she was to admit it - was probably the best bet for figuring it out.

...Still, there was something… achingly wrong about this that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something about Mae, maybe. Or maybe something else.

Hell if she knew.

“...Alright, sure.” She shrugged. “Why the hell not.”

Mae made a small, barely-audible noise reminiscent of a stepped-on mouse. Bea sent her a quick glance, but elected to ignore the sound.

It became clear after a moment that Mae wasn’t going to be initiating this.

...Which left it to her.

She sighed quietly and reached out to gently cup Mae’s chin, leaning in and closing her eyes.

There was no spark. There was no heat running through her. It wasn’t  _ unpleasant, _ exactly, but… there was no passion in it.

It wasn’t even Mae’s fault. Despite her complete lack of experience, she actually wasn’t an awful kisser. She was slow and loving, a little clumsy in a cute way. Bea thought that she might actually end up wanting Mae as a girlfriend if she was gay.

But, clearly, she wasn’t.

She pulled back a bit, and opened her eyes just in time to see Mae’s eyes fly open, panicked and shocked.

_ “No, please - don’t-” _

The whispered sentence hung in the air even as Mae’s voice died.

Bea felt her gut melt into hot, bubbling sludge.

But - in a moment of weakness and instinct that she had never been more glad to possess - she answered quickly,

“What?”

For a moment, Mae was simply frozen there, unable to respond. Then, her face fell into relief so incredibly obvious that Bea felt the lurching pool of oil in her gut settle just a little.

Still, that one sentence echoed in her head, rebounding over and over.

_ No, please - don’t. _

_ No, please - don’t. _

_ No, please - don’t. _

So soft, so quiet, and yet so utterly panicked and pleading. Needy. Clingy. Desperate.

Lustful.

“Nothing, BeeBee.” Mae said instantly with a soft smile, pulling back a bit more.

It really struck Bea for the first time how utterly close they were. Struck her that they were laying on their sides, staring into each other's eyes.

“Alright.” She said (more quickly then was realistic, though Mae didn’t notice), rolling onto her back so she didn’t have to look at Mae’s eyes anymore. Still so beautiful, glittering and relieved, and yet she couldn’t feel that same carefree appreciation of them that she had just a moment ago.

Because Mae was gay.

Because Mae wanted her.

_ Shit. _

And -  _ fuck _ \- she had been leading her on.

Her best friend.

And she had talked about not wanting to look away from her eyes.

Had said she wasn’t sure she was straight.

Had  _ kissed her. _

_ Fuck. _

She was awful.

“...So?” Mae said, quiet and with just a tiny sparkle of doomed hope.

The sludge in her gut lurched painfully.

“So what?” She said, though she knew full well what Mae meant - if only because of that tiny shred of hope in her voice.

“So - are you straight?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I am, Maeday.”

She tried to make her voice as soft as possible. She didn’t dare glance at her best friend, didn’t have the courage to look and see the disappointment she had caused. Couldn’t bare to see Mae’s face crumple and her beautiful, glittering eyes droop.

“...Oh.”

But she still had to hear that awful disappointment in Mae’s voice, which was its own brand of torture. She just barely winced.

For a moment, she almost wanted to say sorry. Sorry for leading her on. Sorry she didn’t feel the same.

But she couldn’t. Because Mae would question it.

And then she’d figure out that Bea knew.

And it would become awkward.

And she’d lose Mae all over again, and she just  _ couldn’t - couldn’t bare to, not for a moment. _

She was awful, and selfish, and -  _ shit _ \- probably a tease on top of that now, too.

But she didn’t care.

She let herself be selfish.

She sat up, and resolved to put this memory in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, never to be looked at again if she could help it.

“Wanna get a fire started?” She said quickly, hopping off the car hood - more then aware that Mae couldn’t resist the draw of her pyromania.

And, indeed, Mae’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she instantly nodded excitedly.

“Hell yeah! Can I light it? Oh  _ please _ let me light it, BeeBee!”

She gave Bea her best puppy-dog eyes, and Bea was happy to find that the lurching pool of painful sludge in her stomach could be ignored in favor of the usual banter.

It never quite went away, though.

“Not a chance, Mae.”

Mae pouted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Poor Mae. Poor Bea.
> 
> Why do I do this to my two favorite gals?
> 
> This is what I feel like would happen if a scene like this ever actually happened in the NitW universe. Bea's pretty clearly heterosexual in the actual game, and though I can wave aside that pesky detail for most MaeBea fics (I mean, obviously - I'm writing and/or have written 4 already) I did feel like someone should address what would likely actually happen.
> 
> When I got this idea, I actually planned for it to be reciprocal attraction and Bea just never noticed how she felt about Mae, but somehow it devolved into this.
> 
> Oh, and as for Lack of Proximity - again, patience. I'm chipping away still.
> 
> I'm telling you, this is a hard one to get right - and I'm still not completely sure which of 2 ways I want it to go, so... yeah. Tough. I'm basically writing two versions of the same chapter, really - and it isn't even an easy chapter!
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	13. Bea, Thought: Antimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning, the day of Harfest.

“BeeBee!”

‘BeeBee’ glanced up, just barely raising a tired eyebrow. Mae skidded to a stop in front of her, and blinked. Slowly.

“Geez. You look… worse for wear.” Her best friend fiddled with the end of one of her hairs.

Her tongue darted out and parsed over her chapped bottom lip, cool in the late Fall air. She flipped her cigarette thoughtfully, leaning her head against her hand.

“Yyyyyyep.” She answered.

Didn’t that really say it all?

“You… uh… alright? You need to go home or something?”

Mae sat down next to her on the front steps of the Pickaxe - moving gingerly, as if not to scare her. She almost snorted. Mae treating her like glass was an odd change of pace.

She looked away when Mae gave her a concerned side-eye.

She took a drag from her cigarette.

Exhaled.

“I’m fine.” She said, scratching at her neck gingerly. “Just taking a break. Helps if I let some of the exhaustion out now, y’know?”

Mae nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, alright. I guess I can do that too. Like the, ‘letting out some tiredness’ thing? Except I usually just… power through, instead.”

Bea glanced at her, raising an eyebrow and feeling just a little bit of her exhaustion ease.

“You get tired?”

Mae sent her a disbelieving look, and Bea rolled her eyes.

“Right, phrasing. I meant, ‘you get tired and don’t show anyone?’.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. I mean - I thought everyone did?”

Bea smiled, just a little.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t speak for  _ everyone, _ but I do. I just didn’t think you ever… hid your emotions. You’re usually pretty open.”

“Oh, right. Nah, I bottle tons of stuff up. Gotta keep some of the misery for myself, right?”

Mae nudged her, though it was more gentle and playful then Bea was used to from her. She stubbornly refused to smile.

“Yep. I mean, I’m being a misery hoarder, so you’ve gotta keep some in your little corner.”

“Exactly!”

Mae sounded delighted that she understood. She couldn’t help but smile this time.

“...Like what?”

She tried to keep her voice as disinterested as possible. Casual. It was easier to get information from someone unsuspecting if you were casual.

“Like, what do I keep bottled up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…”

Mea leaned back a little, scratching her chin. Bea wondered how the hell that didn’t sting, but refrained from asking.

“I guess I bottle up a lot of things. I’ve got, like, all my anger and stuff. Or, like - aggression, I guess is the word? That’s what Dr. Hank said. So, y’know, I’m shoving that down pretty constantly.”

“You… are? Did… Dr. Hank tell you to do that?”

Dr. Hank seemed worse and worse every time someone talked about him - and if Mae said that he had told her to repress  _ anything, _ then he was officially on the ‘needs to be killed’ list.

“Yeah. I think it was like… third session?” Mae made a see-sawing motion. “Sometime around there.”

“I… see.”

Mae froze for a moment.

Then, she giggled.

“‘I see’? What’re you, a James Bond villain?”

“Yep.” Bea deadpanned, looking firmly away from Mae to keep her lips from twitching. “Mwah hah hah. Fear me.”

Mae giggled again.

“You need a cool villain name, though!”

“Antimonyfinger.” She offered.

“...What’s antimony?”

“This weird grey metal with a cool name.”

“That  _ is _ a pretty cool name.” Mae conceded.

“Antimony.” Bea said, tasting it thoughtfully.

“Ant  _ i  _ mony.

“Ant  _ e _ mony.”

“Aaa-ntimony.”

“An-timony.”

“Ant-i-mon _ ee!” _

“Andy-money.”

“..Crap. I’m out.”

Bea smirked. “Does that mean I win?”

Mae feigned a blow to the heart, reeling theatrically.

“No! My hubris!”

“Pretty sure your hubris would be in your brain, actually.”

Mae feigned a blow to the head.

“Noooooo! My hubriiiiisss!”

Bea hid her smile behind her hand.

“There we are.”

Mae was laying back, making weak choking noises and gesturing at her helplessly.

“I do hope you aren’t expecting help. I’m too evil for that.”

Mae gestured more desperately.

“Mwah hah hah.”

Mae cracked a smile, and sat up.

Bea glanced at her watch.

“Welp. This has eaten up my entire break.”

Mae blinked, and then suddenly looked sheepish.

“Oh. Geez, uh. Sorry? I didn’t mean to waste your smoke break.”

Bea shook her head, standing up and flicking away the smoldering remains of her cigarette. “It’s fine. Honestly, that was more fun then a smoke break anyway.”

Mae sent her a  _ look. _

Bea liked to think of herself a someone who confronted what she was uncomfortable with - but she didn’t even try to meet Mae’s eyes. There was something too deep there. Something too full and heartfelt for her to be comfortable with.

“...Oh.”

Mae’s voice wasn’t quite as bad as her eyes, but it wasn’t good either.

“This is me getting to work now.” She deadpanned, risking glancing at Mae to pull of her most practiced cold eyebrow raise.

Luckily, Mae’s expression cleared in an instant, and she blushed slightly, stepping back and scratching at her neck.

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’s no problem.” She said.

She hesitated only the smallest moment before opening the door.

Mae didn’t catch it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys and girls.
> 
> So. Uh.
> 
> Wrote a little something. Had fun. Took a very short amount of time. Mae's more in character then usual, I think. Hints of MaeBea that totally don't need to be there.
> 
> It's early. I'm a little bit groggy. Sorry if there are spelling or grammar errors. I still haven't a beta.
> 
> Yes, I'm still working on NitW content. Yes, I'm still writing A Lack of Proximity. Yes, I'm working very slowly. No, you shouldn't expect a chapter soon.
> 
> Hope you liked this little bit of... nothing.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	14. The Band's Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post game, AU.

“Mae!”

“Greggor?”

“Dude, you aren’t even in tune!”

“I like it. Makes it sound… whats the word? Dis-something?”

Bea glanced up from her laptop for the first time in at least half an hour. “Dissonant.”

“Thanks, BeeBee. That, Gregg.”

“Exactly - it makes you sound like ass! Tune that shit, dude!”

_ “Make me!!!!” _

“Mae.” Bea said flatly from her little corner, not even glancing up. Instantly, she lowered the pillow she had been about to hurl at Gregg, and sighed.

She began to tune the bass.

Gregg collapsed next to her, and leaned in conspiratorially.

“You are  _ so _ whipped, dude.”

_ “I swear to God, Gregg…” _

Bea felt the tiniest of smirks touch her lips.

Of course, she had no room to smirk.

Angus glanced up from his book, adjusting his hat casually. “Guys, we’re on in like, three minutes.”

Mae startled, like someone had sneaked up on her.

“What?! Shouldn’t there be like, a guy here? To warn us?”

“What, like in the shows?” Angus said.

“Yeah! Like in the shows!”

“Guess not. I mean, there’s never been a guy before.”

“This is our first live show!” Mae replied, indignant.

“Exactly.”

Mae threw her hands up. “Argh!”

Bea smirked.

“That’s my line, I believe.”

“Argh!!!!”

“Calm down, dude.” Gregg said, stretching out beside Mae and flopping over her legs, erratically kicking back and forth below her knees. Luckily, he was stretched across her thighs, not her ankles. “We’ll be fine! Angus can keep track, right, Cap’n?”

“That is my duty as lead singer.” Angus adjusted his glasses in what might have been pride.

“See? And if you can’t trust Angus, I don’t know who you  _ can _ trust.”

Mae simply stewed in her agitation.

Bea glanced up again, sending her a veiled glance. Mae looked up and met her eyes, a bit of confusion stirring in the pink-haired girl’s expression.

Suddenly, Bea closed her laptop with a firm movement. At the same moment, Angus stood up, stepping towards them.

_ Finally, _ someone peeked through the doorway, not even bothering to knock before opening the door.

“That’s you guys.”

Mae’s eyes widened a little as everyone started to the door. Her legs finally stopped kicking.

Suddenly, her brain seemed to kick-start, and she jumped up like someone had put a live wire to her. She seized her bass - now tuned - and rushed to keep up.

Bea sent her a glance when she came up next to her - Mae’s frame was tense and she was just barely shivering.

Bea settled her hands on Mae’s shoulders, and leant down a little so they were level.

“Hey.  _ Hey.” _

Mae finally glanced at her.

She smiled at the girl, as reassuring as she could manage.

“You’ll be  _ fine. _ Heck, they’ll probably love you. I mean - you won me over.”

Mae snorted softly.

Then, suddenly, she grinned.

“Give me a kiss for good luck?”

Bea rolled her eyes.

“Alright, you. Let’s knock ‘em dead.”

Mae took a deep breath, shoulders settling.

“...Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

“Let’s go.”

“Let’s.” Bea said, straightening.

  
She reached for the doorknob, and  _ twisted. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of fluff for an idea I've always wanted to do.
> 
> I've considered a full band AU, but I've never ended up getting it done. Maybe this will kickstart me into finally doing something with that idea. Maybe not.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


	15. ...Do You Know Why I Beat Down Andy Cullen Six Years Ago?

“...Do you know why I beat down Andy Cullen six years ago?”

My voice was the barest of whispers, and yet it still seemed to ring in the dead silence of the living room.

Bea’s legs were warm.

“No.” She answered. “We weren’t talking then, and I thought it’d be weird to ask now, and…”

She trailed off, sentence rotting in the air and thickening the odd sense of stillness.

“I… I never knew my Grandparents on my mom’s side.”

“Okay.” Bea answered. Patient.

I felt another little thrum of gratitude ride the line of my spine.

_ Heh. Best Available Friend indeed. _

“But I was really close with my dad’s dad. I never knew Grandma as well - she died when I was younger - but me and Grandpa were close.”

I stared up at the ceiling, eyes hazy. Lids heavy.

I was so  _ tired. _ I didn’t feel like I had slept. My feet still burned, tight from the heavy way I had walked to Gregg and Angus’s apartment.

But I  _ needed _ to say this.

“He used to tell me a lot of stories. The ones with the forest god, y’know? ‘In their wings, in their trees,’ and so on.”

I felt a smile, tiny and brittle and desperately weak, tug at my lips.

“But then he started getting… worse.”

My eyes began to prickle a little.

“It started small. He just… wouldn’t remember certain things. Tiny lapses in memory - nothing big. He’d always still get my birthday right, heh.”

The room was so dark.

“But then it started getting bigger. He’d lose his glasses constantly - that’s how it started. Then he’d start forgetting bigger things. Names of people Dad had introduced him to. He started stopping a lot in conversations. Just like… pausing, and staring off into space for a second, before starting up again.”

“When he couldn’t remember what he’d had for breakfast, we took him to the doctor to get tested.”

“He had Alzheimers.”

I managed to catch Bea’s wince.

“We tried to keep him at home, at first. Thought it was awful to put him in a home. He was part of the family - we couldn’t just… abandon him.”

“But he got worse. The only time he was really himself was when he was reading me ghost stories. Even though I was in 8th grade at that point, I still insisted he read at least one story a night.”

_ Because I had known it would get worse, _ I thought but didn’t say. Bea could probably guess as much, anyway.

“And, past a certain point, we just…  _ couldn’t. _ It- we didn’t  _ want  _ to abandon him, but- it was so  _ hard, _ Bea, and Mom and Dad had work, and- and-”

The tears were starting to come now. My sentence began to die, as the prickling in my eyes washed over in a flood of pain. Hot, thorny pain, pulsing in my chest and trying to force ugly sobs from my throat.

I  _ had _ to keep going, though. The story wasn’t over.

I tried to gather myself. To force the choked feeling in my throat back.

It didn’t work.

Until I felt Bea’s long, spindly fingers wrap around my paw, thumb stroking the pads.

It felt like liquid safety was injected into me. A warmth, calm and soothing, crawled up from my arm and flooded me.

I managed to choke the sobs back.

“And…” I hiccuped. “And we couldn’t see him as often, in the hospital. In the end, he was exactly where he had said he wanted least to be. In a hospital bed, a burden to the family.”

“His eyes still lit up every time he saw me, even as he started taking longer and longer to recognize Mom.”

The room was  _ so dark. So cold. So desperately empty, the space too wide, choking me. _

But Bea’s hand was so  _ warm… _

“He… he thought he was in the house, on his last day. Heh. Said the same ol’ thing about it being haunted that he always had.”

The smile tugging at my lips was painful.

“He left me an apple crate of books. Ghost stories. And it was the day after he had died, and…”

“I was playing this game. You dated ghosts, I think. And it was like… it hadn’t quite… hit me. Hadn’t seeped in.”

“But there was a ghost there - in the game - and it just struck me, suddenly, that… that Granddad would never read me a ghost story again.”

My voice wavered. Bea squeezed my hand, silently urging me on.

“And it was like… like suddenly, nothing mattered anymore. The world just… warped, for a second, and then  _ snapped _ back into place. But it…  _ wasn’t. _ It  _ wasn’t _ in place. Everything, and everyone, was just… dead. Empty. Meaningless.”

“And the next day was that softball game.”

The room was so dark.

Bea’s hand silently turned mine slightly, so she could lace her fingers through mine.

“And Andy was the pitcher when I was up. And he was just… empty. Dead. Just this big bulk of… nothing. Like a tear in the fabric of reality.”

“And I was so scared and angry and just…”

I squeezed Bea’s hand. Desperately. Like I was trying to assure myself she was still there.

She squeezed back.

“Before I knew it I was on top of him. Smashing his face in with the bat.”

“Just… nothing. Empty. Meaningless.”

“Meaningless stains on the grass. Spreading.”

“Jesus.” Bea whispered, voice so quiet I was almost sure I hadn’t been meant to hear it.

“I was doing fine at college, for a while.” I whispered, voice finally beginning to lose strength. “But then, one day… there was this, statue, of… something. I dunno.”

“But there was like, this little kernel of pain in my chest. I’d carried it around, everywhere, ever since Granddad died. This little… hole. This little kernel of loneliness, sitting in my ribcage. Waiting.”

“And suddenly, it just… spread. Spread across the campus.”

“It was like the world had drained of colour. But it hadn’t, it was  _ worse.” _

“It had drained of  _ meaning.” _ I whispered, voice harsh and piercing and utterly broken.

The room was  _ so empty. _

“And the statue was… pointing… I’m not even sure if it was at me, but… like…”

My voice was failing.

“It had this… stare… empty, and meaningless… and I was so  _ scared, _ Bea.”

“I…”

My voice trailed off. Wavered, and broke.

The room was silent.

_ So silent. _

“So you ran.” Bea finished for me. Voice softer then it had ever been.

Her thumb stroked along my knuckles.

I shivered.

“Back to where everything was okay.” I whispered, picking up the thread where Bea had left it. “And then… all  _ this.” _

“I’m… Mae…”

“I’m so  _ scared, _ Bea…” I whispered. The tears came again, hot and prickly.

“Hey, hey.” Bea’s voice was as soothing as it had always been. “Shhhh. It’s alright.”

Her thumb stroked my knuckles again.

“We’re all gonna be okay.”

And how  _ badly _ I wanted to believe her.

“Get some sleep, alright?” Bea’s eyes fell shut. “I’ll be here all night.”

“I-”

A beat.

“...”

The quietest noise left Bea’s mouth. A tiny snore.

_ She had always been quick to sleep. _

I stared up at the ceiling for a long, long time.

Bea’s hand never left mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly how I expected this conversation to go, when it started. It ended up being way more effective, but I thought I'd write the worse version I came up with and post it.
> 
> Still waiting on that Lack of Proximity chapter? Yeah, sorry about that. This hiatus is starting to become far too long. I'm going to try and write that blasted chapter again today, but do I expect it to come out any time soon? Nope.
> 
> I'm working on a one-shot, too. Got an idea I really like, but couldn't make into a full story. And Mae has more then a bit of PTSD in that one, too. It's super weird, writing a serious Mae. Interesting, though.
> 
> Horrorshow,
> 
> -Howard R.


End file.
